


Sunshine

by redscout



Category: Left 4 Dead, Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Gen, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, everyone lives in georgia dont question it, will add tags as they become applicable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: Nick's new to Georgia, and everything about it sucks ass. Well, except for maybe the sunshine.- - -yr classic high school au with some of my own headcanons and thoughts thrown in. main focus is nellis but theyrell be more in the futureon indefinite hiatus





	1. The Window

Every day he found himself in the same place as the clock hit 4, except on fridays when there was no tutoring and he could ride the bus home, obnoxious as it was. 4 o' clock was the time to pack up after 90 minutes' worth of work with one other near-failing freshman, and every day he stood in the same place after shouldering his bookbag, eyes scanning haplessly out the open window. It was no different this year than it was at the end of last year, save for the fact that Savannah's view seemed a lot brighter.

Nick had taken all the time in the world to try and adapt to the south, and it really wasn't working. Moving the summer of his junior year made it all worse because just now, at the beginning of the school year, was the temperature starting to drop below 70 degrees. Boston was the city he truly belonged in, with his pale skin, aversion to cold and sharp wit that could make you a quick buck when necessary. Not here, where the air was always heavy and hot and the people were even more insufferable than the conflicting weather. Being completely honest, he hated it in Georgia.

He appreciated the sunlight more than anything, even with all the trees in the area, and it was every day that he stood staring out at the sports field since two weeks ago, admiring the nice, sunny days.

His dad wouldn't be at the school for another 15 minutes, and though he was ready to leave when the time came, he stood for a while, revelling in the clear, blue sky, the sun's rays cupping the earth like a mother and blessing his cheeks with a soft warmth. The weather sucked, but the lack of grey, wet days kept his spirits livelier than they might've been.

Nick moves to lean against the desk behind him, eyes searching downwards to land on the school's football field. The soccer team was out, having a shoot around, and he stood, listening to their yells and laughs as they kicked the ball to and fro. Nick wasn't necessarily a fan of sports, but it was pleasant to watch anyway, a sort of wind down from the focus of school for the time being. He'd considered joining the baseball team initially, but there wasn't enough room on his schedule for it at the time. 

He let himself zone out for the time being, eyes closing as he continued to listen to the commotion outside, tuning out and letting himself relax for the first time in hours. The breeze from outside pushed against his gelled down hair with care, and he breathed in-- it wasn't all that humid today, and he found himself glad.

The silence he'd coaxed himself into was broken in a few seconds, too quick for him to register what had happened. One second, he'd opened an eye at the buzzing of the phone in his pocket, and the next he was hit square in the face with something hard and leathery, forcing him to fall back against the table with a shout of shock. The soccer ball fell to the floor with a bounce, and the noise from outside had subsided into a gentle hushed drone as Nick stood up straight again. Anger overwhelmed his senses near immediately, his face scrunching with contempt as he saw a couple of the soccer players approaching, headed by a deeply tanned and apologetic-looking boy with a mat of curly golden brown locks cupping his face. Nick picked up the soccer ball with great annoyance, glaring at the kids outside like they'd ruined his life. The tan boy stuck his head through the window and smiled at Nick with a conciliatory tooth-gapped grin, and began with a hand out.

"Hey man, sorry 'bout that." His thick southern accent grated on Nick's ears, and he didn't respond. "Sun was in my eyes! Uh, mind if you give us the ball back?" Nick stared at him for a long while, before tossing the soccer ball haphazardly towards the window, an irritated _wear a hat next time_ crossing his mind. The younger boy caught it, flashed him a grateful grin, and then took off back with the others toward the field. Nick scowled after them for a time, feeling his nose up. It wasn't broken, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

He glanced up at the clock on the wall to get his mind off of the incident, and remembered suddenly that his dad was still waiting for him outside. Hurriedly, he gathered himself up again and readjusted his bookbag, hustling out the door as quickly as he could. Hoping to god his dad wouldn't ask about his reddened nose, he rounded the corner, trying absent-mindedly to put the last 10 minutes of his time out of his head. His face twisted as he remembered the crooked grin of the soccer player, but the thought dissolved the longer he moved, focusing on the fact that it was still nice outside.

The warm air greeted him as he pushed the door open and stepped outside, eying his father's car not far from the curb. There was an apology evident on his gaze, but the moment he opened the door of the Honda, his mood faded back to neutral, that accursed smile still present in the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall sorry this is super short and that its chock full of expositional stuff but id love to hear feedback however short it may be. im just getting started and i have no clue how many chapters this thing will have


	2. A Meeting

It's quiet today. The halls are crowded as they are normally and everyone speaks with as much fervor as they usually do, but it's still quiet, and Nick's thanking his own earbuds as he weaves through the throngs of students, focused. His next class of the day was biology-- a sophomore level class he'd missed out on but was more than willing to take it because it was a college required course-- and he was determined to get there as quickly as he could. There was no seating chart and listening from the back row of a science class was his worst nightmare. The subject itself was one thing, but his somewhat hard-of-hearing self was another.

His eyes don’t wander as he bustles inside with three minutes to spare, eying an empty desk near the front. It seemed somewhat untouched by pencil marks and otherwise grimy hands, and he was ever so silently glad as he slid into the seat neatly, the strap of his bookbag swung gently on the backside of the chair. The classroom proceeded to fill up slowly before the bell rang, a straggler or two ducking their way in last second as the chatter died down. A girl with braids tied up in a loose bun had sat on the right side of him, one of the only other students who remained quiet in the room for the time being. She was looking through their biology textbook intently, and Nick felt out of place, as if he wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't recall the teacher giving them homework last class, but maybe he'd missed it on the agenda.

Dread began to manifest itself as a physical illness in the pit of his stomach, panicked suddenly at the thought of missing a grade this early in the school year. Outwardly, he couldn't care any less for school. In reality, however, he couldn't afford to fail and miss out on college-- or chance disappointing his parents. The stress alone made him want to flee, but instinctively, he turned to the girl to his right, bent over slightly to keep his voice low.

"Hey, what was the homework in here?" he asked quickly. The girl turned to him with a soft look of surprise, slowly closing her book.

"Um, there was none," she answered coolly, and Nick's panic immediately dissolved. He turned to face the front of the room again, avoiding any sort of thanks, once again now focused in on the classroom as if his composure had never faltered. The girl stared a while longer, and eventually turned away from him, having caught no sign of gratitude. The other students quieted down gradually as the teacher came to the front of the room for the start of class and Nick settled back into his seat, mentally preparing himself for this block. Biology was the class before lunch, and if he could make it through now, the rest of the day would be a calculated breeze.

Science was somewhat of an achilles heel for him. It wasn’t necessarily that Nick didn’t understand the content, but there was just _so much_ of it. There were so many different branches of science, and in one this concept means this, but in another it means this, and so on. Truthfully, he saw no reason to force science courses onto kids if they knew they weren’t going into a science field come college. And, he wasn’t.

He leans back in his seat, casually scanning the room without thought. The teacher had stopped talking, and it struck him suddenly that he hadn’t been paying attention enough to retain-- well, _any_ of the directions she’d delivered. He sat up straight again, and glanced to his right, trying to keep his actions nonchalant just in case the girl was watching him. But her textbook was open again, and she was scribbling haplessly away on a piece of notebook paper. His acute sight sweeped the words quickly, inferencing, _terms,_ and he reached back to grab at his bag for his own biology textbook. He set the heavy, hardcover volume on the desk in front of him, as well as his biology binder for a source of paper. All he needed now were the page numbers, but a different gaze caught his own this time-- the girl was staring at him. Nick picked a pencil out of his binder with care, avoiding the girl’s look smoothly. His textbook still wasn’t open, however, and he chanced it carefully, picking a random page and flipping to it as if he were aware of what he was doing.

“133 and 134,” came as a whisper from his right, and he looked over to see a smirk on the girl’s face. “I’m Rochelle, by the way. You’re welcome.” She turned back to her own work before Nick could say anything else. He stared after her for a time before slowly turning back to his own desk. He thumbed to the pages they were supposed to be on, and neatly titled his paper afterwards, scanning the nearly quiet classroom once more. His eyes turned on Rochelle again, who was focused, and he decided maybe this class wouldn’t be such a drag after all.

\- - -

The lunch hall was bustling and crowded, per the norm, and Nick silently cursed public school for being as loud and touchy as it was. Rochelle had this lunch block as well, but she’d broken off on her own the moment they were let out of class to meet up with her friends. Nick didn’t mind it much-- she’d only helped him here and again throughout class because she clearly had a better understanding of the subject than he did, and he was silently grateful for this. But the one thing he couldn’t put his finger on were her intentions; was she trying to get close to him because she wanted something? He shrugged off the notion absent-mindedly as he pushed through the noisy horde of people.

The lunch line was no better off a place. People never actually knew how to form a concise “line” when waiting to get their lunch. But that usually meant they kept to themselves, and Nick was more than happy to take part in this. Shoving his hands into his pockets lightly, he began to make a mental note of each face in the crowd as they stepped ever slowly onward. His eyes pause suddenly as he glances over a familiar looking figure, and he stops in his tracks. It was the soccer player that had hit him in the face the other day, currently high-fiving one of his other sports friends with a laugh. Nick probably wouldn’t have recognized him at first if it weren’t for his voice-- he wore a hat today, covering the mass of dark curls Nick knew were underneath. Anger welled up inside him suddenly as he remembered that monday; his apology had seemed fake, the grin plastered back in Nick’s mind as fresh as ever. He promptly tuned his thoughts out as some unexpecting kid had run into him face first for not paying better attention himself, and Nick moved forward in line, pushing the tanned boy out of his head to keep his cool. If anything, he was really praying the kid didn’t recognize _him._

Nick goes about his business as coolly as possible, rubbing his thumbs on the edges of his tray as he moved towards the front to pay. It was always hot back in the kitchens area, and, of course, he knew why, but that didn’t make it any worse an experience-- it was ripe with the stench of BO and food not cooked nearly enough, and all around an unpleasant experience when locked between a mass of bodies and faded walls that never saw the underside of a sponge. He left as quickly as possible after the lunch lady wished him well, and immediately skirted around to his usual spot, a relatively clean space pushed up against the wall and untouched by the rowdiness of other students. He faced away from the rest of the large room, and dug into a side pocket of his bag, fishing out a folded pair of earbuds. Unwinding them, he plugged the end into the jack, and then let himself tune out the rest of the world, focusing only on his music and the mediocre meal in front of him. The noise faded and he returned to his peaceful place once more, revelling in flitting rays of sunshine through trees that weren’t there. 

The peace is disturbed suddenly as somebody shoves up against his chair, and Nick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes; he’d let it pass without incident, and continue with his routine. The lunchroom was full of people, what did he expect? But he can’t help but jerk when an elbow comes into contact with his shoulder, and instinctively, he turns, a look of contempt buried into his hard facial expression. It falls slightly with surprise as he’s greeted by a bright smile in turn, a familiar grin he wish he could get rid of.

“Hey, bud, how’s your nose!” comes as an over-exaggerated greeting from the one and only kid who hit him in the fucking face not 4 days ago. He removes an earbud and gently moves to feel up his nose, eyebrows furrowed once more. Catching no response, the soccer player continues. “I, uh, knocked your bag off the back there on accident and my hands are a bit full, so that’s my bad, but I was jus’ lettin’ you know. Sorry, man,” he breaks off, sincerity in his voice, and Nick turns in his chair to reach down and grab the bag again. 

“Whatever,” he utters, and before he can say another word, the boy and one of his taller friends move to sit down at the table across from him. 

“Figured we’d ought’a sit next to you today, sir, you’re Nick, right?” he affirms his own question with a nod like it was normal to know somebody’s name without having been introduced prior, and Nick stares at him hard for a long while, slightly baffled.

“Uh, yeah… how do you know that?” leaves his lips with an edge of ice before he can stop himself, and the boy pauses from his ham and cheese sandwich smoothly, a curious look driven into his lively facial expression.

“Aw, some’a my buddies from baseball said they knew you, uh, showed up to tryouts on the day for juniors but went home?” Nick raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t interrupt, letting the boy continue. “‘S a shame, dude, we got a small team this year.” He pauses again, but his grin returns, and he sits up a little bit straighter-- still not straight enough to sit eye-to-eye with Nick. “I’m Ellis, though, jus’ by the way, and this here’s Keith.” 

“A pleasure,” Nick starts, sarcastically, but the two don’t seem to get it, going about happily with their lunches. He shrugs it off and puts the earbud back in, attempting to zone out once more-- with little success. Ellis and Keith’s conversation across the way seemed to permeate even the noise-cancelling qualities of the device, and he stares at his food for a while, wondering what time it was. Lunch only lasted around half an hour, and most of that time was allotted to standing in line. In fact, it went by a lot faster than he’d realized, as right after he put his phone back in his pocket, the bell rung. There was a sudden uproar as reluctant students stood suddenly. Nick got up as well, slowly, and removed his earbuds completely, folding them again and placing them back in their spot in his bag. He slung the whole thing around his shoulder and glanced over at the other two at the table, watching them finish the rest of their lunches quickly through laughs and gentle roughhousing. He makes a decision, quick as lightning, shifting effortlessly into the onslaught of teenagers pouring out of the doors, making distance between himself and the soccer players immediately. Ellis takes notice, however, grabbing Keith and moving hurriedly to follow the junior.

“Hey, wait, Nick, wait up, man!” fades behind Nick as he shoves through the throngs of other kids back towards the classroom. He really wasn’t interested in forming close bonds with people who open by kicking a soccer ball into his face, but something else was tugging at his anxiety, telling him to move as quickly as possible to his next class, and he was going to listen. His gut reactions are instant-- he shoves Ellis out of his mind like it’s a habit, and puts a straight face back on as he gets farther and farther away from the duo, silence in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no chapter summaries we die like men. this was written on writers block and pure adrenaline and i hope its a fine initial incident . were playing it by ear with these chapter titles, boys
> 
> thanks for the feedback thus so far and id love to hear more if youve got anything to say


	3. Group Work

It was friday before the realization hit that the peace had been disturbed and Nick had come into contact with a parasite he was unable to shake, a mouthy bout of livelihood who suffocated the only two blocks they apparently shared. He wished he'd never learned as the day weaned on and Ellis forced conversation after conversation out of his reserved being. And it was even more unfamiliar for the dark-haired boy simply because the only two times he'd ever interacted with Ellis had involved getting hit in the face and shoved in the shoulder. Not the best of first impressions. And here he was, jabbering away as if they'd known each other for years, like kicking a soccer ball into somebody's nose made them instant friends.

He's not looking at him at the moment, and Nick toys with the idea of putting his earbuds back in momentarily before Ellis would have time to notice. This was one of his "free" blocks-- Nick was a student helper, assigned into a lower level history class to help other students or grade papers, whatever need be. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be talking to Ellis. 

"Hey!" shakes Nick out of his thoughts, and his sharp eyes land on the boy a table over, pencil separated from the paper yet again. He nearly continued, but Nick cut him off, staring.

"Do your work, Ellis." The younger boy bites his lip, meeting gazes with Nick before he picks up his pencil once more.

"You know, I was just gonna ask you what this means," he responds after a time, tapping his finger on his paper leisurely. Nick raises an eyebrow, but Ellis doesn't break the eye contact, so the elder boy scoots his chair a little bit closer, peering at the paper.

"'Imperialism'? That's like, the act of taking over another country, with the military," he finishes softly, glancing back up at the dead stare of Ellis. He catches the lightbulb that shines in his eyes when he finally seems to understand, and Nick pushes back away from his desk as the sophomore continued to scribble answers down on his paper.

"You like history, Nick?" He breaks the silence again lightly, the hint of a smile on his lips, and Nick glances back up, a hard expression on his face.

"I guess you could say that." He thinks for a moment. "It's all already been recorded, so all the information's there. And, I mean, it's interesting." 

"What d'you like most?" Ellis questions, turning his eyes away from his paper to focus on Nick once more.

"Revolutions and their causes are cool. Uh, I don't know. Things like that."

"Are you good in your class?" The sophomore turned to softly gnaw on the end of his pencil, and Nick's eyebrows drew slightly in annoyance. "'Cause I'm no good in this one, I don't like history," Ellis continued unprompted. "I mean, like, Keith likes it an' stuff, he keeps sayin' how he's gonna open this colonial Americas exhibit when he gets the time and money, but I dunno, I think it's all pretty bo--"

"Ellis. Do your work," Nick cut him off once more, and the younger boy's expression fell suddenly, shifting back to look at his textbook. It would be an understatement to say Nick had noticed the other's tendency to twitch and fiddle like his life depended on it. His eyes were constantly noting the finger stretching, the foot tapping, the pencil chewing and everything in between. It was like he was some sort of wind-up motor, and while Nick appreciated his exuberance and overconfidence in the quietest way possible, it drew back in the times he became unfocused. Which was often.

Nick glances up from his book to check the time on his phone, and he sees Ellis shift again out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey Nick, what time's it," comes as a softer inquiry, and Nick pauses slowly, eventually glancing over at Ellis.

"It's 2:03," he observed carefully. Today he would ride the bus home; school was almost over, and there was nobody to tutor on fridays. Ellis paused for a short moment before his face lit up at the realization that school would be over in less than 20 minutes. To the junior's surprise, he didn't continue the conversation, merely returning to his work once more, this time of his own accord. He scribbled furiously upon the sheet of paper while Nick sat back, recollecting his internal agenda and thoughts. There was a biology project due sometime next week, a set of pages from _The Crucible_ he was supposed to have read by next wednesday, and unless he'd missed something in his calculations, that was the end of it. Which meant more relaxation time for him, besides tomorrow.

"Uh, hey Nick." The clock read 2:16, and there was a shuffle of papers and bags as students began to rise to leave. Ellis' pencil had just finished writing as he spoke, and Nick looked up apologetically at the surprisingly taciturn quality of his voice. "If you're not busy afternoon tomorrow... we got a soccer game at 4 you might be interested in cheerin' at?" he tried, the crooked grin Nick had grown accustomed to pulling at his lips.

"I'll take a look at my schedule," he answered after a time, and Ellis' face lit up with a smile fully as he gathered his things. A small portion of guilt lodged itself in Nick's gut as he put his own bag together; he definitely wouldn't be attending the soccer game.

\- - - 

"Hey, not the bed," Nick snapped quickly, his hands weaving through his bedroom curtains to fill the room with a bit more light. Gentle lambency from the saturday afternoon sun poured in onto the clean floor, and Rochelle moved as quickly as he'd asked, textbook placed neatly in her lap. The entire room was orderly mind an odd assortment of trinkets here or there, and she found herself staring. Pulling his desk chair out closer to where Rochelle was perched, the junior slipped his jacket off, folded it in half, and slung it leisurely over the side of the chair in preparation to listen.

"So, uh, ecosystems," she sighed, thumbing through her textbook with calm, languid page turns. "Ecosystems in Canada, right? That's our country?"

"I'm pretty sure we got Canada," Nick corroborated gently. They were to research food chains and population trends in assigned ecosystems with a partner, and their beneficially separated relationship had blossomed into something a little bit larger in the short amount of time they'd known each other. Nick was happy to have her over now, the warm air in his room lighter than it usually seemed to be.

"Alright then, uh, I can start on the yearly incline/decline graph of species if you'll start to look at the 'model' ecosystem of Canada," Rochelle continued, feigning a smirk. "I hope you don't mind I took the liberty to do a bit of snooping into this earlier. I like biology." 

"Be my guest." The junior met her smile softly, turning back to the slowly starting-up laptop on his desk while Rochelle shifted their card-stock poster around on the carpet with a bit of difficulty. 

The silence in the room hung for an even half an hour or so as they diligently worked, the occasional clarification of a statistic or inquiry fading from the air like a whisper. It was nearing 6, and the sun was starting to make its descent toward the horizon, bringing the majority of its light with it. Nick spun in his chair long enough to get a look at Rochelle, watch her huddled on the floor close to the poster with a marker in her hand and a furrow in her brows. She sat back almost as soon as he'd turned, and she sighed, glancing at him.

"Hey, this might be out of the blue, but do you know a Zoey?" Nick stopped, meeting her gaze fully now. Both of them seemed adverse to the idea of continuing for a minute or two, and so he sat with his elbows on his knees.

"Uh, which Zoey?"

"She's a junior." This rung no bells in the boy opposite's head, and so she continued. "Tall, dark, hair is usually up in a ponytail."

"Oh," Nick stopped her, nodding, "yeah, I know her. I mean, not well. Why?" Rochelle looked away, biting her lip.

"I was wondering if you could relay a message for me."

"What kind of message?" An inquisitive simper forced its way onto Nick's face, and he sat back in his chair. Rochelle did not move.

"I don't know... how to tell her I like her." She twiddled her thumbs absently, and Nick frowned at the realization that she was being completely serious.

"What? I'm sure if you just went up and talked to her she'd be more than willing t--"

"Uh," Rochelle interrupted. "I don't think you get it." Nick's expression hardened, and he stared at her for a long while.

"Don't get what?"

"I don't want to be her friend, Nick. I like her. Like... _you know,_ " she finished softly, adding a demonstrative hand gesture for effect. And he continued to stare at her longer before it finally clicked in his mind, and his eyebrows arched before he could stop himself.

"Oh. You're--" he started, but quickly cut off, suddenly nervous.

"What?" Her cheeks grew hot and she returned the stare Nick had given her not a minute ago.

"Nothing, um." He paused, thinking. "I didn't know that you..." he trailed off, losing part of his composure. He breathed in, slicking his hair back further with a single hand. Rochelle didn't answer for a while, eventually turning her eyes away from him.

"...Does it matter?"

"No," he spoke quickly, and then changed the subject subtly. "Like I said I don't know her all that well, maybe get to know her yourself more... I don't know." She shifts, the tension in the air alleviated suddenly. "I think she likes trucks and video games, if that's any place to start," he added softly, and Rochelle finally met eyes with him again.

"...Thanks," she chided after a time, and then stood, brushing her pants off. "I think my mom's coming soon. Can you keep the poster? It's almost done, so don't ruin it somehow." Nick nodded, and relaxed slightly at the smile once again present on Rochelle's lips. "See you on monday." And she gathered her things, walking out the door trailed only by the lightest goodbye Nick had ever delivered. And after she had left, he turned back to his desk, eying the clock in the corner of his laptop screen. 5:57. Blearily, he thought of Ellis' invitation to the soccer game, and almost regretted not going, but he pushed the thought out of his mind, closing the computer slowly. The orangey light from the sun had turned his stark grey and blue bedroom into soft hues of creamsicle and brown and he pulled out of the chair, falling purposefully into his bedsheets. He thought about a lot of things for a while, about Rochelle, and school, and that girl she'd mentioned having a crush on--

He ran his hands down his face gently and then splayed out, relaxing into the promising lull of a late-afternoon nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont think yall realize how truly excited i am 2 throw all my ideas into this fic. i hope this chapter got u excited for more... feel free 2 leave feedback ✌️


	4. Shade

Monday came again and the day felt heavy as it dragged itself away from the serenity of the weekend, bringing the fresh feeling of decay back into the air at school. High schoolers never tended to perk up at this time in the week until around the lunch periods, going about the early moments of their days in a trance, like zombies. The atmosphere was suffocatingly lethargic, and Nick found himself pushing away from every other person the moment he got the chance. Biology passed without incident, as did lunch, though he remained puzzled at the fact that Ellis and his tall friend hadn't sat down at his table today. Not that he minded; the undisturbed repose of his own private bubble was a nice change of pace that he found himself consistently grateful for.

He talked to the girl Rochelle had mentioned in the class afterwards, getting a feel for her character and the kind of person she was past her interests. He even took the time to put a word in about Rochelle, ask about the possibility of a blossoming friendship, and Zoey seemed to be open to the idea of getting to know her better. The rest of that class was a breeze, and Nick patted himself on the back for contributing to the metaphorical greater good that existed in his circle of relationships. If he were to be honest with himself, his day was going exceptionally well for a monday. It was last block that had thrown the wrench in his groove. 

Ellis was not at his usual desk, and Nick sat in his same place, gazing faintly at where the sophomore habitually was. There was no big chatter, no prodding questions, and the dark-haired boy found an emptiness in the space that Ellis’ gaiety routinely filled. The bell rung, and in his place sat down a slight, lithe boy with a shaved head and a tranquil demeanor. He talked to nobody nearby, and offered not even the comfort of a glance Nick’s way. This troubled him subtly, but he ignored it; he was the helper here, not a chatter buddy.

The room remained muted as the taking of notes began and the tapping of pencils against looseleaf paper filled the air. Nick had tuned the teacher’s low drone out, unable to focus on even the projector as it flicked through slides of illegible words. He realized with a start that his earbuds weren’t in, and quickly fixed this so he could be left alone until questions arose at the start of individual work. Well, if there were any questions-- Ellis was the main proprietor of his service, so perhaps the day would finish with reticence.

It wasn’t long after book work had begun that Nick continued his fascination with examining the class like a hawk, eying every person in the room, watching how they wrote or spoke or interacted with other students. The silent ones were clearly the most diligent, though there were a few that could multitask, a hand on a phone while the other scribbled at their paper. It was a habit he’d gotten attached to at his old school where silence was a virtue and if you disrespected that virtue you were punished. Students had to make due with feeble excuses for communication, and Nick had become quite talented at reading people and expressions and lips. It was some time later, however, that his eyes fell once again on the dark boy sitting in Ellis’ seat, a book in his hands, and his gaze paused.

“Hey. Are you done?” he asked as lightly as possible, removing an earbud. His facial expression remained neutral as the other boy looked up at him bewilderedly, glancing around momentarily as if he wasn’t sure if he were the one being addressed.

“Me?” he started softly. “Yes.” And Nick’s incredulous stared bored into his placid countenance without much effect.

“Yeah. Book work started like ten minutes ago, there’s no way you’re finished.” And the other boy met his gaze before holding up his piece of notebook paper, tiny, neat writing covering it top to bottom. Nick’s mien didn’t waver, but after a moment’s pause he affirmed the knowledge with a loose hand gesture and turned back to his own desk. The smile at the corners of the sophomore's mouth invaded Nick's peripheral vision, and he turned even further away from the rest of the class. Ignoring the other students the rest of the class was a literal breeze until the noise level died down somewhat even against his earbuds in, and he turned to see a huddled figure making their way into the room with difficulty. They began to approach and Nick recognized them as soon as he turned to look; it was Ellis, come in on one crutch in a jumbled mess of trying to hold too many things at once.

"Hey, Louis," the sophomore barked immediately before Nick could even break the ice, his eyes trained on the calm boy in his seat. Nick stared at him for a long while as he hobbled over on the one crutch, and the dark-haired boy's eyes narrowed as they fell upon the thick bandaging around the younger's ankle.

"Hi, Ellis. Didn't miss much," the other boy replied, the words faded in Nick's perception as he struggled to make total sense of the situation. Ellis sat down in the desk in front of Louis, glancing carefully up at the clock; there were only 20 minutes left in this class.

"Ellis," Nick blurted out abruptly, staring at the back of his head dumb-foundedly. "What happened?" Something like concern peppered his inflection, but he suppressed the observation as Ellis turned to face him.

"Ohh," he starts, a grin spreading onto his lips. "I almost forgot! Twisted ankle. Er, sprained. Got 'er when I shot! I missed," he added quietly, and Nick sat silent for a minute, piecing things together. It clicked suddenly, and the somewhat familiar feeling of guilt creeped back into his gut as he met Ellis' gaze. After the weekend had been over, he had completely forgotten about the soccer game he'd been invited to, and, almost as if he'd been reading his mind, Ellis piped up again, sunny once more. "Oh! You missed it! Was four a bad time for you, Nick?" And the junior sat calmly, the lie flowing smoothly onto his lips as swiftly as he spoke.

"That's my bad. Death in the family," he concluded, and Ellis' facial expression fell slightly.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear about that." He twiddled his thumbs for a moment, and Nick almost gave up on the conversation until it was renewed with another small push. "Maybe next one."

"Yeah," he agreed, though the answer was hollow, his charismatic demeanor masking it instantly. The silence between them settled once more, and Louis glanced between the both of them carefully for a moment, debating whether or not to speak.

"Uh, hey, Ellis, did you want my notes?" came as a tentative question, but the response was an immediate, grateful nod, and they exchanged papers in the last 15 or so minutes accompanied by the messy scribblings of Ellis. Nick glared diminutively at Louis as he began to neatly put his papers away; he didn't trust his completely nonchalant appeal, especially because of his somewhat overt intelligence; Ellis seemed happy-go-lucky genuinely, out of sheer lack of education or naivety, Nick couldn't tell, but he sensed ulterior motives in the other sophomore who stood unawares, packing his things away cheerfully.

It was with a start that he realized Ellis had been fumbling with his things and his crutch for a minute or so, and Nick rose awkwardly to help him put his stuff away. Ellis beamed like the sun, his cheeks lit with a rosy hue.

"Say Nick, you ever broken a bone?" he asked suddenly, and Nick continued moving things around in Ellis' mess of a backpack before he elected to respond.

"Yeah. Right ring and pinky finger, and wrist; tree climbing incident," he returned softly, eyes falling back onto Louis as the sophomore left their company and opted to stand by the door for the last couple of minutes. Ellis' expression lit up even more, eyes shining.

"You climb trees?" he practically yelled, and Nick held up a hand to mellow out this sudden surge of energy.

"From time to time."

"I didn't take you the type!" He gaped, and then noted, "I guess there are lots'a trees around here though, so I guess it makes _some_ sense." Silence passed after this dull scrutiny, and Ellis shouldered his backpack without a hitch. Nick moved away ineptly, letting his composure settle as he replaced his own books and papers back into his bag. His eyes then turned briefly to the window, searching. The trees in front of the school kept this window shady, and only flitting rays of sun shone through in haphazard patches on the tiled floor. The leaves swayed gently, and Nick sighed into himself as he thought of standing in front of the window in his tutoring classroom, able to feel the breeze for himself. But a thought struck him precipitously, and he turned back toward Ellis. 

"You're not staying after today, are you?" Nick questioned, and the sophomore turned. The way he hopped upon the folded right leg answered the question for him, but Ellis spared an answer for him anyway.

"Uh uh, no siree, not even as moral support. No soccer for like two weeks," he chided bluntly. His clouded eyes cleared again as he reminded himself of the other circumstance. "But, oh! I can still go to baseball, but I get like this, this honorary runner guy I think, I don't remember, Keith got one when he broke both his legs last year." He continued with a story, but Nick was barely listening. And when the bell rang, the students shuffled out into the hall in slow motion.

The conversation wouldn't die as the sophomore trotted alongside Nick on the way back to the centre of the school, and even his own muted goodbye was lost to the sea of voices and noise as they separated in the crowd. That afternoon, as he finished tutoring, his eyes weren't focused on the sun, and he didn't watch the soccer players at their practice.


	5. Deeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey fellas this ones a long one so i hope it makes up for the delay. writers block hit me like a brick so i hoped finally churning this out and getting the chapter done would fix it. enjoy!

Weeks passed by in a drone of low noise and familiar steps and a routine had slowly grown on Nick like an ivy vine, twisting through his thoughts and actions in the subsequent weeks without much aim or care. Weekends were spent alone or with Rochelle, depending on how busy she remained-- sometimes he saw her speak in hushed tones with the taller girl on the sides of hallways, their bodies close but not close enough to catch any eyes. He knew, but he said nothing, bringing it up in casual conversation in the breaks between the long, saturday hauls of work from the previous week when she was lying on his floor, vulnerable. He resented himself silently in these times for latching to her smile, to how she went about things and held herself, and he always had to tear himself away and keep his composure; he was being rash. She was occupied. Ellis’ customary mien hadn’t changed since the sprained ankle minus a decrease in speed and a somewhat sporadic schedule. Nick decided not to notice that he missed the presence of the sophomore in the days he was absent, but the abiding feeling of unfamiliarity when he found himself in the same place on every day except fridays when he didn’t tutor and his eyes searched out the window wouldn’t go away no matter how tenaciously he suppressed it. It raised a tight feeling of longing in his chest for reasons beyond his comprehension, and he buried that feeling, deep down in his psyche, away from the promise of a broken composure.

Another day after Ellis was gone he was back and without a crutch, and his demeanor seemed livelier than had the past few weeks. He sat down confidently at the lunch table they shared, Keith at his side, and Nick looked up from his tray, gaze softening.

"Nice foot," he observed neatly, and Ellis grinned at him insistently.

"Yeah? All fixed! Soccer this weekend, Nick, you ought'a come this time!" he starts, and the junior folds his hands gently. "You know, assumin' nobody else dies or nothin'." And Nick thinks about it for a while neutrally, playing absently with the mashed potatoes by his fork. He still felt fairly guilty about missing the game he'd been invited to, and sure, it helped that Ellis' ankle had healed up since, but the culpability still pulled at his gut now and again.

"You know what, why not," he suggested, finally, seemingly pleased with his own conclusion. And Ellis' face lit up forthwith, his smile turning into a full-on beam of satisfaction. His friend Keith smiled too, and Nick noted vacantly how his hands held each other on the shiny wooden surface of the lunch table. In the weeks predominating Ellis' recovery, he'd learned a lot about his lunch companions through conversations he hadn't remembered starting; Keith was actually a senior, but their families were close enough that he and Ellis had practically grown up as brothers. It was an odd, alien thought to the dark-haired boy, as his family had always remained as secluded as he himself was, if not more so. They were also religious, something else that had never really surfaced as a topic of discussion, and Ellis had several half brothers who lived out of state. He was aware of the fact that Keith had siblings as well, but details had been casually nixed on, and he wasn't actually interested enough to ask further.

"Hey Nick," Ellis broke the silence again unexpectedly, and when the junior turned to look at him, his facial expression was soft and sincere. "This might come as a li'l bit odd, but I was wonderin', since you tutor and all, if you got an open space for me somewhere," he finished sheepishly, and Nick met his gaze with a sort of surprised stare. He pauses for a long minute, thinking about the few days left in the week.

"If you're not busy tomorrow, there's an opening," he returned smoothly, after a time. He'd actually have to pull some strings for the request, but that part of the deal remained entirely hushed. Ellis shifts awkwardly, but nods after a minute, his hands tangling into the hem of his shirt gently. Nick took notice, but said nothing else, waiting for verbal confirmation.

"Uh, yeah. Man, I hope you're good at math." The older boy's expression settled; he was. And Ellis dropped the subject afterwards, not even awaiting a yes or no. Lunch seemed quiet afterwards; he told stories to alleviate the placidness of the air that surrounded their small corner table, even amidst the high noise level of the entire cafeteria. The atmosphere was light and airy, until last block came around.

Utterly and truthfully, Nick had no explanation for the way his mood had dropped so dramatically come the last hour and a half of the day. Irrationally, he blamed Ellis even though he was well aware it was just another mood swing, but it was no untruth that the sophomore had worn his nerves thin. And his ache to ignore him grew the longer he talked, the further he pestered until Nick was blatantly turned away from the other boy and the rest of the classroom, waiting for him to take a hint. He did, eventually, but the air remained tense, the simper evaporated from the face of the younger. Nick ignored it. That was none of his concern. And supposedly, the kid opposite had finished his work come the end of class, as he stood three minutes before the bell rang, occupied with his backpack. Instinctively, the junior almost rose to help as he'd gotten accustomed to doing so in the preceding weeks, but he remembered with a start that his ankle was fixed-- there was no reason to react. So he kept to himself, folding his ear buds once more and placing them neatly in their small side compartment while shifting to put the rest of his things away.

The class moved in unison, tired eyes unlocking to adjust to the end of the day in their own way, all eager to leave the suffocating air of school. Ellis had moved to the front of the room, striking up a conversation with Louis, and Nick kept his distance until the very last second, moving in time only as the bell rang and the other students poured into the hallway like a flood. He caught up to Ellis carefully, weaving through the populace with nimbleness he wasn't aware existed. He stood walking, then, side by side, and the younger boy caught his eye in an instant, electing to remain silent. He did, however, force the curvature of his lips, and when they split at the back of the school-- Nick, to his tutoring and Ellis to his soccer-- it had yet to dissipate.

Nick was anything but focused throughout the rest of the hour and a half; yes, he aided in his duty to do so, but he couldn't help but snatch a glimpse out the window at the soccer field now and again. He wondered absently if Ellis had done the same when his job came to a close and he sat, pressed against the desk behind him while his eyes fixated on the sky. It was cloudy today, but the sun remained unobscured and shone its glow down onto the floor around him like a sort of halo. It was time once more to relax, and he did so, eyes open but only gently, to keep watch on the players from afar. Tentatively, his gaze slowly began to fall onto the boy with the curly brown hair that he could make out even from here, and his chest tightened unexpectedly, briefly enamored. He almost neglected to notice when the phone in his pocket buzzed and he was knocked out of his temporary trance only to leave with the fleeting thoughts of his younger companion in his mind.

\- - -

The next day felt empty and meaningless, and he remembered exactly none of it. He saw Rochelle briefly, but even the thought of her dissipated as the day went on, lost to the stream of occupied thoughts and incessant noise. The fixation on the promised rendezvous at the end of the day kept him entirely occupied, his chest a swell of emotions he couldn't entirely place his finger on. Anxiety, he figured, was a factor, but for what was also a mystery. Really, he tried to contravene and get himself in the right mindset to attend school. But the day moved along in slow motion, a painful trudge up the hill of time.

As the end of thursday drew near, his mind tuned back into the atmosphere, shutting off his auto-pilot and beginning to take note of his surroundings again. It crawled from there, but Nick could make it. He distracted himself with the promise of the weekend, only a day or so away all the way up until the bell announced the end of the day, and he stood stunned for a minute, remembering suddenly his promised role. The stroll to his tutoring room felt out of place, and he kept walking even though the silence of his in-but-not-on earbuds was beginning to press inwards. Anxiety gripped the junior momentarily, and then he stood in the doorway, and it dissipated; Ellis was inside, already propped up onto a desk without any sort of go-ahead, and Nick settled.

"Hey, Nick!" he piped up from his position immediately as his eyes alighted on the other boy, and he slid off the desk as Nick began to approach. His eyes spelled apprehension but his expression glowed with warmth. The gesture reassured the junior, and he threw him a light smile as he sat down at a desk. And then Ellis sat down next to him, and they established where to begin, and started just there. Geometry had been an easy class when Nick had taken it himself, and it seemed even simpler now, with the knowledge of other mathematics classes entwined into his understanding of the subject. Ellis seemed very easily puzzled, and remained so until they'd talked over proofs and their purpose more than a few times; concepts needed to be stated repeatedly, in depth, but consequently also in layman's terms. The junior didn't mind all that much, because he wasn't supposed to. Tutoring was an outlet and he embraced this, and embraced the swell of self-pride in his chest every time Ellis' expression beamed with sudden understanding.

Signs that spelled his anxiety decreased as the hour and a half continued, and Nick took subtle note of this as he watched him work. It was an odd position to be in, to see the usually filled-to-the-brim-with-energy sophomore so quiet and focused; he took in information, maybe asked for a repeat or two, and then continued on. Nick had chanced a look at his grades now and again over his shoulder, and he couldn't help but wonder why Ellis could boast his diligent tendencies here, but still have his grades unable to reflect the work he put in.

"Uh, hey." The words broke the reverence of the room once more as they were standing, putting books and papers away at the close of the 90 minutes. He met Ellis' gaze and said nothing, hoping his expression would urge the younger to keep going. "Um, I know you're gonna try an' make the soccer game on saturday and all, but you're not busy tomorrow, are you?"

"No. Why?" Nick asked gently, turning to face him. Ellis shifted his weight onto his other foot and gave a trying smile.

"Well, I was wonderin' if maybe you could come over tomorrow," he starts, and pauses. "--to tutor. More, I mean. An' maybe stay for dinner if you feel like it." The break in speech allows him to glance off into space, rubbing tenderly at his neck. "I mean, y'know, if ya wanna and all. I won't take it personal none if you can't." Nick stares for a while, slightly flabbergasted. It'd helped the other boy had clarified with the added _to tutor,_ but something jumped inside him; unlikeliest of friends, and he still found himself somewhat excited.

"Uh, well, yeah. Sure," he ends the thought coolly, and Ellis' beam grows as he shoulders his backpack. He began to skip off towards the door before abruptly stopping and turning back towards the elder boy.

"Oh! You can just stay after tomorrow and sit in on practice and then after that we'll go. Alright?" The junior gave him a nod, and, smile unwavering, he trundled off like a dog. Nick couldn't help but smile as he leaned against the wall afterwards, sneaking a glance outside at the chastity of the evening sun, still high in the sky but hovering comfortably over the football field. He felt more awake than he had all day, and sighed into this sudden epiphany. It felt alright. And truth be told, he couldn't wait for tomorrow.


	6. Friday

Outside, it was warm, and the wind shook the trees surrounding the school like windchimes, the ancient, orchestral rattles of nature pervading the campus. It was with an abrupt realization that Nick took in the fact that the day had literally flown by, and he couldn't remember any specific moment no matter how deeply he prodded his subconscious. Perhaps it was the mere existence of a friday and the promise of the weekend along with it that had tugged the day away more swiftly than anticipated. But he wasn't focused on the why; his mind was set on the what. No tutoring today. No regular tutoring-- today, he was going over to Ellis' house.

The sunlight settles on his eyelashes like a warm snow, and he blinks, tuning back into the world around. It occurred to him suddenly just how out of place he felt the longer he stayed tuned in to the shouts of the soccer team; he was the only one near the field completely unassociated with soccer, and kneeling with a book folded over in his lap while the lot of them roughhoused and practiced drills. Every time one of the other players eyed him, even in passing, he found himself staring off into space, the tiniest bit flustered. And Ellis was entirely unconcerned, peppier, even, than usual as he hopped around the field like a deer.

Nick was fully absorbed in his book when the level of noise decreased and Ellis approached him, sweaty and red in the face but still bearing a large grin. He offered a dirty, sun-kissed hand to his companion, but the junior declined gently. He wondered absently if Ellis showered in the morning or at night, but felt it no business of his.

"Hey, man, thanks for stickin' around an' all," the younger of the two stated with an encouraging grin as they started the walk to the back parking lot of the school. "Do you like soccer any?"

"My dad watches it occasionally." Nick scuffed his feet in the grass slowly as they walked, taking in the gradually chilling air with gratitude. Ellis nodded understandingly and faced forward again, his eyes searching ahead. A couple of the other players trailed behind, and the junior felt out of place again-- most of the older boys were probably driving already, but he still couldn't get his license 'til January. "Which car are we looking for, exactly?" he continued, and paused, eying Ellis. "Wait, can you drive?"

"Oh, no," the sophomore assured quickly, somewhat abashed. "Uh, no. I guess I forgot to say, but my mom don't get off work 'til late. I usually ride with Francis, if that's okay." Nick didn't have even an inkling of an idea which one of the other players Francis was, but he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowed. Ellis began to walk backwards, searching the few other boys behind them, and then, tongue out in thought, he gestured gently to a large, thickly built boy with a buzz cut and scruff dotting his chin. He looked friendly enough, but Nick wasn't overly excited about the encounter.

"Which car is his?" The younger boy turned around again to walk with his friend once more, a curious expression on.

"What? His mom drives us," he stated, and the junior's eyebrows furrowed once more. "He's just a sophomore too, Nick, he ain't even gotten his permit yet." That was the sentence that caught him off guard, and he left the topic with a gentle nod that probably meant _understood._

Francis wasn't all the bite he boasted, and it was odd to see Ellis get along so well with somebody of his character. Nick remained almost entirely silent in the car ride to Ellis' while the other two chatted incessantly about things he could barely bother to pick up on. Francis' mother continually told him to stop turning around in his seat in the front to speak, but despite agreeing, he still did it anyway. Nick's eyes wandered absently out the window, focusing in. The atmosphere was calm enough, but he still had a rising sense of anxiety pooled in his chest that seemed to stir each and every time he was addressed; he hadn't been invited over to another person's house in what felt like a decade. He really couldn't recall. And now here he was-- to tutor, that was all.

He regained composure and zoned back into the conversation only to witness the two sophomores attempting to play rock paper scissors in the small space between the front two seats and the back two. The car gradually came to a halt, however, interrupting the game and returning both of the two to their respective seats in front of the house Nick presumed to be Ellis'. It was quaint, and looked cozy-- he hadn't noticed at first, but they were in a much more rural area, the trees dense and a creek running lazily under a bridge up ahead. Sunspots danced on the grass as they exited, and Nick took it in gratefully as Ellis waved goodbye and then began to fish for his keys in his backpack.

"Welcome to mi casa," Ellis began with charm as they walked inside, botching the Spanish. It smelled homely and faintly of firewood, and the hallways were dark with the absence of his mother. It was an older building, and Nick had never been inside it before, but something about it made him feel secure anyway.

"Here, I'm not sure if you wanna work in my room, or..." he continued, but trailed off, and Nick shrugged his shoulders, hands in pockets.

"That sounds fine to me." Ellis' expression slipped slowly into a smile, and he nodded at his companion, leading the way to his bedroom. It was everything and nothing all at once that Nick was expecting, and in some light he felt closer to Ellis now than ever. A bedroom was a sacred, personal space, like the domain of a dog behind their fence. An invitation into a bedroom was something Nick had never experienced for himself on the receiving end; the plain and yet decorated walls were fascinating, and Ellis settled on the messy bed while he seated himself on a beanbag off to the side. Posters and lights hung on the dreary yellow walls like its own personal wallpaper, and clothes were strewn about on the floor in a way that the junior supposed he'd already imagined. It was a cluttered, liminal space, with the orange light of the dying day slithering its way around the tree branches outside through his blinds. It was peaceful, and unreal, and everything he'd never known.

"Where were we?" the younger boy asked, turning over onto his stomach to open the math textbook beside him, silencing the astounded train of thought coursing through Nick's head. He shook himself, removing his own folder and book to hold precariously in his lap.

"Equilateral triangles?" he tried, hoping for a familiar response, but Ellis scrunched up his face and flipped over onto his back.

"I don't remember. Walk me through it again." Nick took a deep breath, and gradually covered every base they'd explored the day before, catching him up on the concepts that had been explained frequently and terms he may've forgotten about. Ellis' expression lit once more every time he was reminded of something, and he turned over lethargically, staring Nick in the face. It was tranquil for a while later, the hum of the lowest setting of the ceiling fan their whitenoise among the occasional question and response. A lamp was turned on eventually when the sun had gone down at 6, and Nick had to check his phone now and again to make sure his father had received his text about the evening. Ellis closed his book with unfounded suddenness eventually, and the older boy glanced up nonchalantly.

"Hey Nick, I got kind'a a personal question for you," he began softly, eying around him out the cracked doorway. Nick said nothing, but nodded encouragingly, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Are you and Rochelle like, uh..." --he gave a vague hand gesture-- "...a thing?"

"What? No," he countered swiftly, shaking his head. "No, no no. She has a partner already." He could tell he'd made a rash mistake when Ellis' eyes widened curiously.

"Really? Who!" Nick waved a hand to shoo him off, but he continued. "Come on, you can tell me!"

"No I can't," he returned matter-of-factly. 

"Why _not_ ," Ellis chided singingly, and Nick looked away, crossing his arms.

"It's none of _your_ business, pal," Nick concluded. "You wouldn't know them anyway. They're a junior."

"So it is you!" he practically yelled, pointing a finger at Nick accusingly, and he shook, frustration growing.

"No!"

"Just tell me!" Ellis turned over on his back again, hands clasped in pleading. "Please _please_ I won't tell _nobody._ " Nick debated for a minute and then sighed, a hand rising to hold his temples.

"Okay, fine. You don't tell a _soul_ , or tell Rochelle I told you, or I'll kick your ass." His warning was low and real, but Ellis held his gaze without as much as a flinch, curiosity overwhelming his small figure. "Her name is Zoey. She's a junior, like I said," he finished slowly, and wove his fingers together in his lap, waiting for Ellis' reply.

"Oh," he said suddenly. "Well that's cool." He kicked his feet behind him and glanced off at a wall while Nick's eyes stayed glued on him, eyebrow raised.

"Happy now?"

"Sure." He shrugged. Nick stared a while longer, but slowly let his eyes trail off of his companion and into his lap again, unsure of what to do now. "You know, my ma says that's a sin, but I don't think so," he added quietly, his eyes focused out the window.

"Hmm. Yeah?" Nick inquired lowly, tightening his hands further, and Ellis nodded again.

"Yes. It ain't nothin' but love, y'know." Nick hummed to himself, thinking, and then glanced away entirely, focusing on the floor. "I'm not, uh, gay, by the way, if you were 'bout to ask," he added quickly. "'Least, I don't think...!"

"I wasn't going to ask. Me neither," he added, voice shaking. The air was still and uncomfortable for a long while, awkwardness settling in between the two. The anxiety in the junior grew fervently, and he felt like he'd done something wrong. It was now completely dark outside, and Nick gradually stood up, gathering his things nervously. "I think I should go."

"Hey, wait, you don't gotta go, we're not even done yet," the younger of the two countered frantically, scrambling off of his bed to grab Nick's wrist. "You could stay for dinner--" Nick stopped, overwhelmed. It happened all too fast for him to say anything, or for Ellis to say anything either. The dreary yellow light of his table lamp lit the look of overt surprise painting his face and Nick stumbled backwards, wrenching his arm out of the younger's grasp. He stood frozen for a long while, trying to push the thought out of his mind--

_You just_ kissed _your friend._

"...Maybe you do ought'a go." Ellis' voice came as a dark, fierce whisper Nick had never heard, something like intimidation coursing briefly through his veins. He backed farther away from the sophomore, grabbing his things up more frantically than before, unable to even utter a sorry. He left as quickly as he could, and sent his father an unwavering ready text while he stood unbelonging in the dark, his composure defensively steeling as swiftly as it possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope nobodys mad abt the increased length of these chapters but this one was extra important. boo hoo, nicky
> 
> any issues w how this was carried out? 2 rushed? not enough buildup? leave me some feedback 


	7. Mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry yall this ones kind of a weird one. transitional chapters and all

Saturday is noiseless. The endless hum of wind heralding rain throughout the whole of the day is the only sound that bleeds through the grey, somber exterior. Clouds roll aimlessly, and the stillness is harrowing, giving Savannah the appearance of a real ghost town. Spirits threaten to reveal themselves among the yellow-orange lights still standing out in the darkness of the day. He doesn’t speak to Rochelle, or to Ellis, or to anybody. 4 o’ clock passes without a hitch.

It’s not until the start of the next school week that Rochelle bothers turning her full attention towards the older boy, beckoning him over in the hallways with Zoey where things are quiet between them for a minute. He’s not sure what to say, other than a hushed sorry for refusing to return her calls. He’d promised her a sunday coffee. None such came. Ellis’ face isn’t around at lunchtime, and he can’t even tell if that makes him feel any worse. The longer he thinks about it, the more he decides he doesn’t feel bad to begin with. He’s alright. It was a mistake, and he’s angry at himself, but that's it. And above all, nobody else is allowed to know he may be struggling the tiniest amount. Enough to warrant suppression of his emotions even around his friends. But he's cool, and calm, and everything is still alright.

"I don't know what to do," he sighs, a foot kicking idly underneath his seat. The bell rings a moment after, and he's silently glad to be missing last block for the time being.

"About what?" comes the rushed but calm answer from across the desk, a distracting kerfuffle of papers shuffling in front of him.

"How do you mend a friendship?" The man behind the desk ceases abruptly, light eyebrows furrowed right at Nick when he places the work back on the desk.

"Now kid, I know I'm your counselour and all, but I'm not your therapist!" Nick gives an involuntary groan of frustration, throwing his hands up slightly.

"But Mr. Overbeck--"

“Hush! Listen to me, boy!” Mr. Overbeck leaned over his desk impatiently, shutting Nick up with a wave of a finger. He then sat back and stared at the junior, who met his gaze of contempt with haste. Nick had always been one of his more readily-welcomed students-- he recognized his intelligence and appreciated the boy’s ability to face authority with just enough disdain to get him off the hook. Though he’d only witnessed his silver tongue in action a couple of times, he respected him more for it, regardless. “I can’t tell you how to fix something like that right this moment-- there’s not enough time, _and_ you’re missing last block!”

“I don’t mind. He’s there,” Nick added abruptly, tying his fingers together. “He sits near me. I don’t want to go back and talk to him; it seems like a waste of time if things aren’t, uh... normal, you know?" He meets eyes with his counselour and the elder man squints at him testingly, before sighing.

"Alright, fine." He folds his hands and places his elbows on the desk, staring at Nick. "But in order for me to help you out with this, you have to let me know what went down."

"Er. Yeah. Okay," he returned hesitantly, glancing for a quick moment at his lap. "...I mean, it's kind of a long, confusing story."

"I got time," Mr. Overbeck stated leisurely, sitting back in his seat. "If you want help, that is." He forced a little smile at the high schooler, and Nick sunk slightly in his chair, dejected.

"Alright, well... I guess it starts off a couple of months ago, when I first... met him."

\- - -

Monday's passing felt hasty and disorienting, like a train rushing by when you're least expecting it. The weekend had no influence on the day and yet it had felt longer somehow. The clock struck three and students shuffled out in a vacuum of muted torpidity, as if the whole world moved swiftly around these people and their slow-motion lives. Ellis felt the same, the tug of lifelessness on the building come the close of the school day, even his energy sapped out by the depressing weight of monday. His feet shuffled on the way to practice-- he felt heavy.

He couldn't pretend to be unhappy that Nick had been mysteriously absent the last period of the day. It wasn't necessarily that he _wanted_ to avoid him, but he needed time to figure things out a little bit. Find himself in the grand scheme of things. At the same time, the boy's mind demanded answers-- did he do it? Was the encounter his fault? Did he... like it? Hazy inquiries spun around him consistently until he was greeted with fresh air and the boisterous voices of the other players, already outside and kicking around. Ellis breathes in, steadying himself. He has a plan.

"I'm not really sure what to think, Coach," he mused, kicking his feet against the small, underused bleachers surrounding the soccer field.

"About what?" the older man returned, his arms crossed. It wasn't hostile-- there was a clear look of concern on the man's face.

"I feel like I messed up somehow, I dunno how. I dunno... what," Ellis replied softly, staring at the grass beneath his cleats. A thick hand came down on his shoulder with the gentleness of a rabbit, and he glanced up.

"Yeah. I know what you mean, young'n. It happens." Ellis stared at him incredulously.

"What happens?"

"Life. Life happens," Coach left the vague remark in the air like a suggestion, evoking a puzzled look onto the sophomore's face. "Life happens, and then ya move on, fix things in the future, get stuff together. Get it all back to where it was, and then you forget that life happens 'til it happens again."

"That seems pretty specific," Ellis noted, twiddling his fingers. He still held a slightly befuddled face, and Coach let out a short, hasty laugh in response.

"I guess so. But it's the truth. You can ask your momma, Ellis, life's happened to her, too." The boy's look of disesteem grew, and he pulled away from the coach slightly.

"Well, how d'you know that!"

"I know your momma, boy, don't be disrespectful," Coach snapped, but then his expression softened. "But that's how it is. Life happens to everybody, that's just what it does. Happened to you, why couldn't it a' happened to your mother?" Ellis seemed to think for a moment, and then stared at his knees, silent. "Now, it's alright though, you know that. You wanna talk about it?"

"I dunno." He spoke softer, cradling his arm with the other. "...There's a lot t' talk about, I guess."

"We got time," the coach stated with a smile, patting the boy's back lightly. 

"I'm... I ain't really sure where to start. I guess the beginning was kind'a my fault. Yeah."

\- - -

Silence permeates the rest of the week like the ocean, sucking up any trace of solace between the two now estranged boys. They don't attempt to actively engage, and Nick longs once more for lunch periods spent listening to some new garbage nonsense about bigfoot or sports news or _anything_ \-- his plain, repetitive music going while he eats, alone, suffocates him in a way he'd never foreseen. So many times had the junior told himself, _if this guy fucked off right now, I wouldn't have the energy in me to give a damn._ So many times had he felt regret pooling in his stomach at the remembrance of the casualness of that thought. Nick hadn't felt lonely in a long time.

Rochelle was the saving grace on the days he shared a class with her, but, regardless, the junior neglected to talk about the issue with the girl despite her prying. He knew she was a worrier, but there was nothing to worry about; Nick was fine. The rest of the blocks were begrudging and meaningless, and last block was an endless pit of awkwardness. He'd moved his seat up two desks to avoid the gaze of the other boy, but there were still unmistakable times he felt the burn of a gaze on the back of his neck. He never chanced a glance. The only words exchanged were a simple, varying phrase along the lines of, _get back to work_ , and Louis seemed curious, but neither of the two dared share the issue. Not here.

Riding the bus home on friday felt like a dream-- the week had gone by too quickly to exist, and yet he felt the stress lifting ever so slowly from his chest. Maybe when he walked into his house, he would just go to bed and forget; relax, and be at peace with things for a bit. And that's exactly what he did, passing up the opportunity to speak to either of his parents and even skipping dinner. He woke up disoriented some time at night, but cared not. He only checked the clock when the phone rang suddenly, dread hitting him square in the gut as he noted the cute picture locked into his phone as Rochelle on the ringing end.

"Hello."

"Nick?" She sounded concerned to an extent he'd yet to witness, and he thought for a moment.

"Yeah, what."

"I tried to call earlier, but you didn't pick up. I wanted to make sure you were alright--"

"I was asleep," he declared suddenly, barely believing the own words he'd just spoken himself. Napping was something he hadn't partaken in since elementary school, and realizing it just then had spooked him slightly.

"Oh. Alright. And, you know..."

"If you're gonna ask about the 'thing,' Ro, now's not really the best time," he sighed, a hand traveling to his forehead absently.

"Then, when is the best time?" She sounded aggravated all of the sudden, and Nick was slightly taken aback, silent. "Look. I know you hate it when people get to know you and whatever, but for what it's worth, I'm your friend, okay? I'm trying to help you. But... but if you're just going to keep pushing me away without even chancing me a, 'no, Rochelle, I don't need any help,' I don't know what to do! Okay?" She paused, taking in a breath, and Nick swallowed guiltily, still processing this outburst. "I'm just... tired of seeing you like this, so distant. I need answers. I _want_ to help."

"Look, Rochelle..." he trailed off, eyes distracted in anticipation. Anxiety flared for a moment, and he took in a breath of his own. "I'm... sorry. I am. I can't just... tell you about it, though. It's complicated, and... thanks anyway, I guess? I'm pretty sure it's just something I need to handle on my own." The pause following his cease was lengthy and strenuous, and he was struggling not to break the silence in waiting for her reply.

"...Okay," she concluded finally, sighing, and Nick felt culpability swell periodically in his gut. "Thank you. For finally letting me know, at least. And... please tell me if there is anything I can do." He remained silent, staring at his floor while she abstained for a minute longer. Lack of energy was tangible in her voice, and the junior felt bad for keeping her up. "...Have a good night, Nick."

"You too," he stated, strainingly, and then she hung up, and he was left in silence once more. He glanced at the clock: 9:20. Time to go back to sleep.

His dreams were foggy and unrealistic, and he felt disconnected even from himself. He wondered absently if God or other beings lurked in dreams, waiting for the unlucky or unsuspecting to become of them and discover the truth about the world. In fact, he was so nearly in complete harmony with these vacant thoughts, he hadn't remembered waking up. His phone buzzed right next to him at 7:04, and he glanced at the culprit's name in his phone with wide eyes. It was Ellis, at fuck all in the morning on a saturday.

_hey. u wanna get outta here some time?_

Nick's composure shook, and he thought about outright ignoring the notification, claiming he'd missed it later when he woke up around ten. But he supposed Ellis wouldn't believe that; he knew him, and he knew he was an early riser. Nick's fingers were drawn to the touchpad keys gradually, hands almost shaking.

_Hey. Sure._


	8. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall sorry for the delay things have been pretty not good lately but this was sittin around in my drafts needing to be finished so idk how great it is. you tell me. wish it were longer but enjoy:)

The sky was still dark when he left the house, a dingy cloud cover obscuring any traces of the impending sunrise. It was chilly out, but not unbearable, though the junior still found his hands tucked into his pockets, wary of the chilling bite of early morning autumn. He’d never walked to the park all the way from his house on his own, but the adrenaline coursing through his system paired with sort of still being half asleep kept him going and unquestioning of his otherwise questionable behavior. If his slowed thought process had allowed it, he would’ve been nervous out of his mind. Lord, he hoped his parents weren’t awake.

The air went from chilly to tolerable the longer Nick walked, and he found himself more awake by the time he’d made it to the park. In fact, he hardly remembered getting there in the first place. All he knew is there was a light layer of frost on the mulch of the playground, and the sun on the horizon was beginning to beam through the clouds in a rosy fog. He was always up this early for school on the weekdays, but never had he really paid attention to the sky and how it woke up just like the earth. It was beautiful, the fact that he could appreciate the sun even when clouds reigned.

It takes a second of looking around to deduce his solitude, and a thought crawls into his head, that maybe Ellis had played some elaborate 'we're never going to be friends again you loser' prank to get him up at fuckall in the morning and out in the cold. _No,_ he concludes instantly. _He's not smart enough for that._

He takes a seat on the dew-dropped swingset near the rear of the playground as he waits and watches the sky, considering where Ellis' house was in comparison to his. Being honest, he couldn't recall. Was it closer to the park or farther away? Maybe it didn't matter. Nick shuffles his feet gently against the mulch as he stops his mind from wandering. It's now that the anxiety has set in, and he sits back, eyes scanning the surrounding area.

It's almost startling when his eyes fall onto the silhouette of somebody a ways off, sitting by a tree in the shadow of its dark plumage. His pace is slow as he begins to approach, but the closer he gets, the more clear it becomes that this is the boy who asked to meet him at the park. And his heart sinks.

"Ellis," he chides when he's close enough, softly. Neither of them move for a minute, and the stillness in the air bites into Nick's bare skin like frost.

"Hey, Nick," he returns, finally. He doesn't look back, but he pats a spot next to him on the wet grass as in invitation for the older boy to sit down. The way he moves seems mechanical and the entire situation has Nick feeling unusually uncomfortable, hesitant to willingly seat himself on the early morning dew. But he doesn't wait for another prompt, moving languidly into a stance where he can hug his knees to his chest. It's silent for a while longer, their eyes trained on the sky as the sun breaks through the cloud cover and the sky is painted a rich, deep orange. Ellis sighs in through his nose, and Nick spares a glance at him through the corners of his eyes. There's a smile on the sophomore's face, and some sense of anxiety in the older boy's chest seems to settle.

"So," he starts again, breaking the silence. "What's all this about? You know, me being a morning person doesn't mean I willingly get up at the _asscrack of dawn_ , right?" And that earns him a low chuckle, and he has to glance away, his hands gripping each other tightly. There was something about his laugh he'd never heard before, and he really wished he could stop thinking about it.

"Well, I don't know. I figured you would," he says, as if Nick were the one who came up with the idea originally. "I know you like the sun and all," he continues, eyes raising skyward, and Nick follows his gaze strenuously, feeling very suddenly fight-or-flight. "Also, I didn't take neither of us as the ignorin' type." He stands at this comment, dropping the sliver of grass he'd been unceremoniously rolling between his fingers.

"...I didn't know what to do," the junior retorts without thinking, moving quickly to stand beside his companion. He was unwilling to admit that it was weakness and fear that had kept him away for the week, and he swallows, trying to keep his building anxiety at bay.

"Me neither," the sophomore agrees quietly, and he shoves his hands into his loose pockets, beginning at a lethargic pace off towards the walking track around the playground. Nick follows slowly, eyes trained on the sky avoidantly. "You know, I was really hopin' I hadn't just done somethin' wrong myself," he continues, unprompted, a nervous laugh pervading his speech. "For sayin', get out so quickly. I felt bad. I didn't... I dunno. It was trivial."

"Yeah." Nick ponders for a minute, trying to re-forget the incident even happened. "...I didn't know what I was doing. I was feeling weird." He feels excuses tumbling out of his mouth, talking without entirely thinking. The tranquility is foreign-- he's never seen Ellis so seemingly withdrawn, and for once, his own painfully neutral demeanor is inflicting a sense of dread unto the way the pit of anxiety in his stomach is already twisting around. He can't lose it now, though.

"It's alright." Ellis shrugs his shoulders, and then scuffs his feet against the damp, grimy asphalt below them. Nick's eyes are still focused on the sky, streaked orange, and he tries to even his breathing. "...You know," Ellis starts again after a moment, without a go ahead, "that was the first time I ever been kissed."

"Don't talk about it like that," the older boy snaps in a second, eyebrows furrowing defensively. Ellis offers a sheepish smile, but turns his eyes back on the ground, and they keep walking silently for a minute. The air is tranquil for that fleeting moment. It feels alright.

"Well, what do you think," Ellis finally asks again, and Nick puts on a pained expression, exacerbated by the fact that Ellis is somehow still keeping the conversation afloat, and he's got nothing to contribute, barely a thought and it certainly isn't complete.

"What?" His hands fall gently back into his pockets.

"Well, about the, um..." Ellis taps his chin thoughtfully. "Well. Are we just supposed to ignore it? The... I mean, it was kinda weird, right?" The junior feels his cheeks heat up dangerously, and his fists clench. He can't pretend to not agree with him; the statement might as well be a blatant observation. In fact, down to its core, it was. _Of course_ it was weird. Not even Nick can say it wasn't in good conscience.

"I was hoping we could ignore it," he stammers without a second thought, his eyes focused anywhere but on Ellis. The younger boy seems to note this absently, because he can feel his eyes searching him a moment later. The only give to his stoned, locked-up expression is the light pink on his cheeks.

"That's fine, I guess." He thinks. "I just figured you might want to. Uh, in any case, I'm willing t' listen, if you got stuff to tell me." There's a knowing look on the sophomore's face that stabs into Nick's façade like a pike, and he has to look away again, heated shame clouding his eyes briefly.

"I don't know. I don't know! Why is this so important to you?!" He finally snaps, hands white knuckled in his pockets. He's yelling without thinking, again, and the thought terrifies the unoccupied part of him greatly. "I wish it'd never happened! It was some fucking _stupid thing _and I don't understand why you're so _hung up_ on it!" Ellis has stopped moving, staring Nick down like a deer in the headlights, but the older boy continues, for once entirely brazen. "I don't... I don't feel like that! I'm not gay! And you know what? I don't like you! I _never_..." The words die loosely on his tongue, and he barely has the energy to finish what he realizes he's saying. "...liked you."__

__Ellis is completely silent, his eyes drifting slowly down to his feet. Nick has to step back and stare at his hands, his reddened hands, breathing harder and harder as his chest tightens. Was that what he meant to say?_ _

__"...Naw, I get it, Nick." The sophomore rubs his arms up and down with both hands, his expression leaking despair and desperation for the first time ever. "I'm sorry. I thought maybe you, uh... Hell. Sorry." He closes his eyes, and then shoves weathered hands down into his pockets again. And Nick is silent, staring, as he begins to walk off._ _

__Nick goes home, too. They don't talk the rest of the day, and he sleeps 'til one. The reproachful attitude of his parents soaks through their amiable fronts when he finally makes his way downstairs, and he ignores them, going on a walk. Maybe he'd go to Rochelle's house. Wherever, Nick walks. And 4 o' clock dies on his watch, forgotten._ _


	9. Open

It feels so simple after that, like the solution had been right in front of his eyes the entire time. The weight lifts from his chest like he's finally broken the surface of the deep, tremulous sea he's been tossing and turning around in now for the past couple of weeks; he takes in as much oxygen as he can get, and at once, the fear and the anxiety dissipate. The next day, he feels completely fine.

And it terrifies him.

It was an undecipherable puzzle to determine whether or not the things he'd explicated upon being filled to the brim with emotions were true, because even he couldn't tell. And even worse, Rochelle couldn't tell for him, either, and there was no way he was going to bring it up with Ellis. If that nearly insignificant emotional outburst had taught him anything, it was that, one, Nick didn't quite know himself as well as he'd assumed, and two, he's got fears. He knows that now. And the anxiety is gone, but the fear isn't. 

The next couple of weeks are simple; he takes to his usual routine of repressing things, doesn't try to explicitly avoid Ellis, a chat with Rochelle and Zoey here and then-- he goes about his day as any other. His first instinct is to forget, because he's not sure what else he _could_ do at this point. 

It takes a Saturday evening with the rain pouring outside of his window and Rochelle seated tiredly on the end of his bed for any realization to break the surface. She's combing her fingers through her hair nonchalantly, sorting it out again from the humidity of the storm outside. His eyes are on her as he rests on the floor, noticing every movement, taking note of every stray moment she spends silent and preoccupied. It's the first time he's ever seen her without her hair up, and the guilt hits him like a car when he wants to comment on her beauty. He forces himself to glance away, and his eyes alight on their biology textbooks, haphazardly strewn about and open to some random page he hoped she'd flipped to on purpose. The words come up completely illegible, and he darkens gravely, feeling all at once like he's sinking. It's quiet for another minute, but he knew she was too observant. Always those sharp, searching eyes.

"Nick?" He feels her gaze resting on him, and he looks up two seconds late, trying to neutralize his expression again.

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?" The concern that peppers her gaze and her voice seems to make everything worse, so he wrings his hands and pretends for a little bit longer.

"Yeah? Why," he mumbles innocently, finally returning her gaze fully. A flicker of disbelief moves across her eyes disapprovingly, and he swallows, well aware of the fact he'd made another mistake. Jesus, she was his best friend for crying out loud, it shouldn't be that _hard_ to tell the truth.

"Nick, I'm no idiot." She lets the comment hang in the air for a moment, and his face flattens guiltily, forcing himself to glance away again. "You're acting weird again, all over again, like," she pauses, and stares at him intensely, and he chances another look at her only because really upsetting Rochelle is his worst fear, right now, anyway, "did something happen again?"

He debates whether or not to respond for a long while, sighing, putting his head in his hands, anything to avoid looking at her right this second. "Yes," he finally manages. "It's no surprise, but I've fucked up _again._ Wild, isn't it." The dry, sarcastic remark cuts his tongue even with the smirk he wears, but it's genuine, and he hates it. Hates the way he can feel her searching him again, trying to get personal, wondering about him. Hates when people try to get close to him. That's the worst.

"Well?" she imbues after a short silence. "Continue. You know I'm not gonna leave you alone until you let me help you with this, man, I'm tired of you pushing me away all the time." A wave of anger-- no, _denial_ \-- pushes up through his chest and he wants her gone, _now,_ but he can't force himself to yell at her, too. "I want to help."

"A fight," he states matter-of-factly, almost believing his own words, but he knows better than that,"between Ellis and I. Verbal, nothing physically confrontational. I don't know." He sighs, and sits up straighter, running his hands down the length of his face in silent agony. "Nothing makes sense anymore, Rochelle, none of it. I hate it. I hate... being afraid," he adds lowly, and hangs his head. He hears her shift off the bed and alight next to him. 

"You can talk about it more, you know, instead of that cryptic bullshit I know you love to hand me so much," she coaxes, and there's a breath of a chuckle in her inflection that almost makes him feel better for a moment, but then he returns to himself, and shuts off again-- he can't think of her like that.

"He... I don't know, he just kept bugging me? About something so trivial and it was making me uncomfortable, and like..." he trails off, holding himself. "I guess I snapped a little bit. I told him I didn't like him at all and I still can't figure out if I was being honest or not."

"Why would you've said it if you didn't mean it?" she questions simply, and that forces his eyebrows to furrow again.

"I don't fucking know! I guess I just needed a reason to yell at him, _I don't know,_ that's the confusing part, alright?" His hands hit the carpet in a momentary fury, and they stare at one another for a long while before he goes on, almost timidly. "I don't think I know myself much anymore."

"Is this about that stupid thing a couple weeks ago you never told me about?" Her tone is fierce and he groans, flopping back against his floor.

"Sure, whatever, It's related." She props herself up on her knees to look at him, and with a glimpse he can already tell she's not going to leave him alone about _this_ story, either. "You know," he continues, sitting up to meet eyes with her, grimly. "If I tell you about this, it _doesn't leave this room, ever._ Understand?" And she gave a cursory nod, color on her smily cheeks about having finally gotten through to him. And, at a crawling pace, Nick began to recall every event from around five weeks before to now, complete with customary embarrassment and overindulgence of emotions. To most, he'd say he never needed a venting buddy, he was fine with sitting and letting his thoughts stew and boil all on their lonesome until it got too much to bear. It always had been that way, and he saw no issue with it, but now it was oddly emancipating, to exert all of these emotions and ideas that had been skipping around incessantly in his brain for days now. He made a mental note in the middle of a breath to thank Rochelle for this later-- maybe get her a fruit basket.

The room goes silent as he finishes, and he tucks into himself with an eye focused on Rochelle, waiting for her reaction and watching her gauge the situation silently.

"Okay, so," she starts at a slow pace, folding her hands. "I need to know this, first of all-- you're _not_ gay?"

"I don't know! I don't know anymore, I don't even know myself." He stops, and looks at his hands, brows creased. "I guess I hadn't ever really considered it. I don't... date people," he adds, tone significantly lower in volume, and Rochelle offers a curt nod.

"I understand. Well... it's abundantly clear that you didn't mean what you said. I don't think you'd be experiencing so much grief over the situation if it was true," she notes carefully, and Nick lets out a sigh of relief, one weight removed from his chest. "And, you know, I can't really help you get your act together... I'm not sure if you can actually talk to him if you haven't sorted yourself out enough yet to... actually _converse,_ because I think above all right now, you need to be honest with him, and also stop blaming everything on him. Just talk to him, would you? Keep your cool, _say shit_ and he'll understand." Nick thinks for a long time on these words, hands tied together in thought. He knew she was right. God, of course she was right, she was always right.

"...Okay."

"Yeah?" The encouragement in her voice was enough for him to look up at her again, and he sighs a second time, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna sort this out. I'll tell him... how I really feel." He shifts his weight on the floor uncomfortably and Rochelle looks pleased beyond belief. As much as opening up was a turn-off to him, venting felt... _good._ And it was all she really ever wanted out of him-- he appreciated that more now.

"Okay, good. Good luck with that. Now, are we actually gonna take a look at cells or sit around all day psychoanalyzing you?" And that earns her a small laugh, and she smirks, moving over to the book. That's the first Saturday Nick falls asleep without trouble, and the first Sunday he feels fine waking up on. There was a chance things could be better, and he knew that now. It was like a singular ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds, a strand of hope and something to go off of. It was better than anything to come to terms with that.

Monday morning, he's well rested. The bus ride is uneventful, and he prepares his schedule mentally as they travel closer to the school. He feels awake, and maybe even happy, and when he catches Ellis' eye in the hallway later that day, he chances a smile, a hello. Things would be okay now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys im really hoping this is legible at all. sorry for the inconsistent posting time; been a lot going on lately so hopefully ill get my act together soon. enjoy

**Author's Note:**

> trying to update this semi regularly! would always love feedback and thank You for reading
> 
> hey guys. putting this work on hold indefinitely due to loss of interest. hopefully ill work up the motivation again at some point but for right now this work is on hold. thanks for reading and try to stick around i dont know when ill be back on it


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